


5 Times Mycroft Saved Sherlock and 1 Time Sherlock Saved Him

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 5 Times, Angst, Big Brother Mycroft, Brothers, Bullying, Car Accidents, Drug Abuse, Fire, Holmes Brothers, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Mycroft Feels, Mycroft To The Rescue, Protective Mycroft, Protective Sherlock, Sherlock Being Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 08:12:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3202010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft and Sherlock are brothers. With all that means.</p>
            </blockquote>





	5 Times Mycroft Saved Sherlock and 1 Time Sherlock Saved Him

1.  
"Freak!" Mycroft Holmes could hear the taunt from the other side of the wall. He was here to collect his little brother from school and he could easily imagine who the taunt was aimed at. 

Still he didn't hurry at first. He'd had to learn to deal with bullies and Sherlock would have to do the same. But then there was grunt that sounded far too much like someone getting hit. 

Coming around the wall Mycroft saw Sherlock on his knees, papers scattered around, three older boys surrounding him. One of the boys grabbed at Sherlock's hair, but Mycroft quickly laid him flat on his back. The other two stumbled back, then fled from the enraged teen. The other one scrambled to his feet and took off after them.

Sherlock sniffled but pulled away as Mycroft crouched to gather papers. "I don't need your help." 

Mycroft stood back and let him help himself. Best not to tell Mummy. 

2.  
The weather wasn't even that bad that day. Sherlock had wanted to see an exhibit in London and since Mycroft was on break from Uni he'd agreed to drive him up. Sherlock was even more sullen as a teenager than he'd been as a child so Mycroft didn't bother with making conversation. As he often did, Sherlock had brought a book and buried himself in it.

They hadn't quite reached the outskirts when it happened. Someone cut Mycroft off. He hit the brakes, only for the car behind him to strike them and send him half into the other lane. Before Mycroft could get control another car slammed into the passenger side. 

Mycroft was half aware of the car crumpling, Sherlock nearly being thrown into his lap. Mycroft was tossed into the door. Somehow the car came to a stop before it flipped or hit anyone else. All Mycroft could see was that Sherlock was hurt. Somehow he got his brother's seatbelt off, saying a prayer of gratitude that he'd been wearing it at all. The driver's door was bent from the collision, but with a burst of adrenaline he shoved it open and pulled Sherlock out, laying him on the grass of the shoulder. 

Shaking, ignorant of his own injuries, Mycroft tended Sherlock's wounds the best he could until help arrived. He was told later that this quick attention probably saved his brother’s life. Sherlock ended up with a broken arm. Mycroft never drove again.

3.  
It was usual for Sherlock to ignore Mycroft's calls. But since Sherlock was in Uni and Mycroft was building his career nearby, Mummy has asked him to keep an eye on him. He would have done it anyway. 

Something felt off more than usual this night; he got only a busy signal. Mycroft had learned to trust his instincts, so he took a cab to the dingy flat Sherlock insisted on renting. It was raining as he hurried from the cab to the door. He had a key and let himself in. 

The flat was too quiet. At first Mycroft thought maybe he was out. He was convinced Sherlock kept the place a mess in an attempt to keep him away, but he made his way around the stack of newspapers. The kitchen was empty but he frowned at a half-drunk mug of tea. 

Sherlock's phone was off the hook. 

Blood running cold, Mycroft forced himself to stay calm. The loo was empty, which left the bedroom. 

Pushing open the door, Mycroft found Sherlock slumped on the floor against his bed. A quick glance at the slightly blue tinge to his skin told Mycroft all he needed to know. He retreated back to the kitchen to call 999, then, when he was certain the ambulance was on its way he hurried back, laying Sherlock full on the floor and feeling for his faint pulse. 

The pulse stopped not long before the medics arrived to find Mycroft giving his brother CPR. 

He stepped back and let them do their job. Sherlock refused to see him the next day at the hospital. Mycroft was unsurprised and told their parents that Sherlock would be fine, he'd just taken ill. 

4.  
Most days Mycroft was glad for John Watson's presence in Sherlock's life. This, however, was not one of them. He watched the CCTV feed and John and Sherlock creeping down the alley. John had his gun out already. 

They'd been chasing this suspect all week and Mycroft had kept one eye on them as he usually did. But he was worried. This suspect had connections he wasn't certain Sherlock knew about. 

There was movement in one corner of the screen and Mycroft pressed a button. After that things happened fast. The suspect took a shot at John and Sherlock, who took cover behind a dumpster. The people moving behind Sherlock and John were incapacitated before either of them knew they were there. Sherlock said something and the suspect looked around for his backup before he realized they weren't coming. He set down his gun and surrendered. 

Sherlock looked up at the CCTV as the Yard arrived, not looking pleased. Mycroft shrugged and closed the feed. Sherlock could be as displeased as he wanted, as long as he was alive to glare. 

5.  
Sherlock’s “death” hadn't been kind to Mycroft. He had only had sporadic contact as his brother chased down the fraying strands of Moriarty's web. As always, Sherlock was loathe to ask for any help. But if occasional bits of money or supplies appeared now and again, he didn't refuse them. 

When he learned Sherlock had been captured by the Serbians, Mycroft's first thought was of relief. It had been some weeks since he'd known his brother's whereabouts. 

Other things were brewing which required his attention. As time passed and Sherlock did not escape on his own, Mycroft put plans into place. When the opportunity came, he had himself inserted into the country and set them in motion. 

It had been some time since he'd done field work, but he had no qualms about removing anyone who got between him and his target. When it came to Sherlock he would always get his hands dirty. 

Finally he was in the dirty cell, playing the part of an observing officer. Internally he winced at every strike, but he had to maintain perfect control until the right time. 

Of course it was Sherlock who gave it to him, sending his torturer off after his unfaithful spouse. Then it was "back to Baker Street," freeing Sherlock and getting him to the pickup zone without causing an international incident. 

Sherlock never even said thank you. 

+1

Mycroft watched Sherlock's life return to as normal as it could be. Which of course meant not normal at all. Mycroft found himself busy with work, though he tried to be available to Sherlock as the one person who had any idea what he'd been through. 

Late one evening he was working in a flat he maintained in the city for those nights when going home was just too far. He was so lost in thought that he didn't even smell the smoke at first. But when he did he shot to his feet. 

None of the alarms had gone off. This was deliberate. He hurried to the window, only to find it sealed shut. Mycroft pulled out a handkerchief to cover his mouth, pocketing his mobile. The laptop could be destroyed remotely 

Opening the door, he found the hallway full of smoke and it drove him back, heart beating fast in his chest, lungs straining for air, head going fuzzy. He stumbled, thinking to grab the chair and smash the window when suddenly, somehow, Sherlock was there, wrapping him in the heavy Belstaff and all but carrying him out. 

Finally they were in the London air, a faint drizzle doing nothing to the flames. Mycroft's eyes were still bleary from the smoke, but as he looked up at his little brother's eyes, for the first time in a very long time there was worry and care instead of resentment. Then Sherlock’s mask snapped back into place as the paramedics put on the oxygen and Sherlock stepped back, taking his coat. But Mycroft knew and Sherlock knew that he knew and maybe that was all they needed.

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to GuixonLover87 and Hums-Happily.
> 
> You can find me at [merindab.tumblr.com.](http://merindab.tumblr.com/)


End file.
